


last of the summer days

by tangentiallly



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Mutual Pining, Road Trips, pre asoue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 21:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16395401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangentiallly/pseuds/tangentiallly
Summary: Of course, if Kit followed the assumption that loud, overdramatic, and sometimes mean theater kids who elicited a strong feeling from Lemony were not her type, it was reasonable of her to come to the logical conclusion that Beatrice wasn’t her type at all.[or: Kit and Beatrice go on a road trip.]





	last of the summer days

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own ASOUE

From the corner of her eye, Kit noticed they had already passed Larry’s burger shop by several streets.

“What, are we driving to another town to get hamburger takeaways?” Kit asked sarcastically, her eyes narrowing in impatience as she glanced up from texting Lemony.  Of course letting Beatrice drive was a horrible idea, she never had the greatest sense of direction.

“Wouldn’t _that_ be fun?” Beatrice replied, an innocent lilt to her voice that didn’t hide the delight behind it, immediately making Kit suspicious. “You know, another town, and another town, and _another_ …” She swerved the steering wheel, accompanied by a fling of her head that made her long hair flying for a moment, and they turned onto an open road, leaving the city behind them.

“Beatrice Baudelaire,” Kit cut through Beatrice darkly, “please tell me we’re not going on a fucking _road trip_.”

“Absolutely,” Beatrice nodded solemnly, “I’m keeping this a secret.  You’ll never know.”  Her lips pulled slightly upwards, “also – hold on tight.” She stepped on the accelerator hard, the car speeding up suddenly.

Kit merely glanced at her, looking decidedly unimpressed. “Really?”

“Shouldn’t you have more reaction to that?” Beatrice sighed dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

“Amateur,” Kit rolled her eyes, “give me a reason not to wrestle you out of the driver seat and drive back to the city this minute.”

“Well,” Beatrice drawled, “first of all, because I already packed everything – and yes, I packed for you too, you’re _very_ welcome.  Second, because the stars aligned. Thirdly, because you know you would like the chance to speed down the Hinterlands in a way you can’t in the city.”

The last one definitely sounded tempting, Kit thought. Her mind flitted to the last memory of Hinterlands travel, and the absolutely thrill and satisfaction as the sceneries blurred into a background scene of a terribly shot film in the high speed.  Still, she felt obligated to retort, “The way _you_ can’t in a city, I think you mean.”

Beatrice tutted disapprovingly, “You have issues, Kit, you know that right?”

“Yeah, with the cars blocking my way,” Kit countered smoothly, “but I do get past them easily.”

Beatrice chuckled, “You know, you’d think that line would be annoying, but in reality that’s not even a quarter Lemony.”  She sped up even a little more, “C’mon, you want this, we haven’t done road trips in forever.”

Grasslands flew past her outside of the windows, and Kit had admit that Beatrice was right.  Perhaps it was time they took a break from all the VFD things they’d been working tirelessly recently, and road trips were never not tempting.  Still … “Do you know the word forever, when used by you, lost its affect ever since you started referring anything over three months with it?”

“Well,” Beatrice declared, “this will forever be a regret of mine.”

 

* * *

 

On the third day, they stopped by a museum for unknown animals that Beatrice always wanted to visit.

“I’m a little surprised you drove here successfully,” Kit remarked, “in fact, I’m quite surprised by you so far the whole trip.”

Beatrice turned toward her, a mischievous grin on her, “I’m so glad so many people bought the lack of sense of direction act! It’s a great accomplishment.”

Kit stared. “It was an act?”

“Oh, I’m an actress, Snicket,” Beatrice sighed dramatically, “of course it was an act.  Olaf and I used it all the time when we were on missions together with our chaperone, it was a way to _accidentally_ run into weird places we wanted to visit.”

“Tell me you’re kidding,” Kit groaned, sliding down in the passenger seat a little before pushing open the car door and stepping out. “He’s not that good an actor.”

“Well, I certainly think he isn’t, but damn, you all are really trying hard to prove me wrong and he’s been stupidly smug about it,” Beatrice huffed, following suit.

“As you have been?” Kit asked drily.

“Oh no, of course not.  I’m _rightfully_ smug.” Beatrice flung an arm across Kit’s shoulder, “anyway, let’s go inside, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Kit, look at this one, it’s got really fancy colored furs.  Absolutely gorgeous.”  Beatrice nudged Kit.

“And really sharp teeth and claws,” Kit noted, turning to see the animal replica Beatrice was pointing at. “Makes great weapons.”

Of course that was what Kit noticed, Beatrice thought as Kit bent down to examine the said claws. Kit was always practical, jumping to new ideas about how something could be utilized. Her ideas were very different from Beatrice’s, whose ideas usually served a more dramatic purpose to Kit’s practical ones.

Watching Kit in analytical mode about tools and weapons though, was always … something Beatrice found incredibly sexy. The way Kit’s eyes lit up in interest and the way they focused. The way Kit’s voice got excited as she talked more and more about how to make it a useful tool.  And of course the times when Kit got very hands-on and just started designing things.

Beatrice never told anyone about this, because a large part of her wondered if this was just the result of listening to Olaf talking about Kit during their missions for too many nights. Perhaps she was just looking at Kit from Olaf’s point of view, Beatrice told herself.

She was never really that convinced, but the self-doubt never really went away either.

 

* * *

 

They ordered root beer float and tea at a restaurant. As Beatrice sipped her own root beer float, she wondered how the tea would taste on Kit’s lips. Strong and bitter and something a person wanted to taste the first thing in the morning?

She would probably never know.

“We should rob a bank someday,” she said instead.

“Mulctuary Money Management?” Kit raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Beatrice nodded, “We can send someone in undercover to collect information, disguised as a secretary.  Best idea ever.”

 

* * *

 

Of course, if Kit followed the assumption that loud, overdramatic, and sometimes mean theater kids who elicited a strong feeling from Lemony were not her type, it was reasonable of her to come to the logical conclusion that Beatrice wasn’t her type at all.

Unfortunately, history had proven that against all sensibilities and reasons, loud, overdramatic, and sometimes mean theater kids who elicited a strong feeling from Lemony were _exactly_ Kit’s type.

They’d been driving for three hours this morning and the last hour of it had consisted of Beatrice performing an impromptu opera and singing several different roles by herself.  Beatrice had a really strong and smooth voice, Kit thought as Beatrice performed a soprano piece, her voice pitch climbing higher and higher until it came to a sudden drop.

At the drop, Kit shuddered involuntarily and her right foot kicked a little, and she took a moment to regain control. Even without looking at the seat beside her, Kit could feel a certain smugness radiating off Beatrice as she sang her next piece. After all, it wasn’t every day that someone could startle Kit like this while she was driving.

In Kit’s defense, nobody had ever warned her that Beatrice’s singing had gotten so sensual over the last year. Perhaps it was just because they were in a small, closed environment together, Kit determined. Yes, that certainly was the most logical explanation to why as Beatrice sang, Kit felt the musical notes vibrating in the air and dancing on her skin. After all, opera really should be performed on stage in a fancy opera house back in the city, not in a car.

It was certainly not because Beatrice had any special effects on Kit, because loud, overdramatic, and sometimes mean theater kids who elicited a strong feeling from Lemony were not her type at all.

(They were.)

 

* * *

 

On the eighth night, they stopped the car to lie on grasslands and gaze at the stars.

“You know,” Beatrice began, uncharacteristically hesitant, “this might be our last road trip …”

Kit rolled to her side and propped her body up slightly to face Beatrice, a frown on her face. Under the moonlight, she looked like a fearless warrior of the night, Beatrice thought.

“We’ve got an escaping route and a backup one for that and we’re not going to get caught.” Kit said, and Beatrice didn’t doubt her confidence. “Even if we got caught, I’ve broken out of prisons before.”

“I mean … last road trip as people who aren’t murderers or murder accomplices,” Beatrice sighed, gazing into the night.  A couple of stars on the horizon looked oddly like a poison dart.

Kit blinked, and then realization started to dawn on her. “Is that why you kidnapped me for this road trip?”

In normal situations, Beatrice might’ve made a remark about how they really all used the term too liberally after the VFD childhood experience as if it was something normalized. Tonight, though, she just shrugged, a little helplessly, “Maybe.”

Kit leaned in slightly, almost dangerously close, and for a moment Beatrice thought she might come even closer.  The moment passed, and Kit pulled away, and lied down onto the grass again. “Everything comes to an end. There’s a last to everything, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Beatrice sighed.  For a while, neither of them said anything.  The stars on the horizon still looked ridiculously like a poison dart, and Beatrice wondered where it’s aiming at.

“We should go back,” Kit finally said, after a while.

“It’s not that late,” Beatrice protested, an attempt to hold onto this piece of moment for a variety of reasons.

“I mean, we should get back to the city,” Kit clarified, and Beatrice’s face fell slightly.  But she knew that Kit was right.  They had been escaping the reality long enough, and eventually need to get back to work and missions and all the darker responsibilities that came with it.

“In that case,” Beatrice said, reaching for her car key, “you want to get one last rush of speed while we’re still innocent?”

And Kit gave her a lopsided smile, taking the key over.  “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://penultimatesugarbowl.tumblr.com)


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